Chapter Twenty-eight - Crossing The Line
The school year was almost over.
Gryffindor beat Hufflepuff on the Quidditch pitch, which was good for them. Millie led the Slytherin team to a narrow victory over Ravenclaw, which meant that Slytherin took back the Quidditch Cup. Millie would go down in history not only as the first female captain of the team but also as one who brought the Cup back home. They had such a good party that many house members didn't make it to breakfast the next morning.
More importantly, Harry was still no closer to figuring out who was Voldemort's agent in Hogwarts. He knew in his guts that there had to be one. Those two members of Dumbledore's Order hadn't succumbed to their injuries. Harry had too much faith in Madam Pomfrey to believe it. More importantly, Snape believed it. Though Voldemort hadn't divulged the agent's name, he had dropped enough hints for Snape to form his conclusion. He often reminded Harry to be mindful.
Harry had many suspects, but he had no ultimate proof. He needed proof in order to act. He was a prefect and the captain of the duelling club. He could not go making baseless accusations. He was trying to unite people against Voldemort, not divide them. It was why he'd allowed Tori to run loose in the castle. He wanted to know if anyone was getting wind of his Order, but also who in the castle was up to no good.
Blaise Zabini? He couldn't put his finger on it, but something just felt off about the returned Slytherin. So far as Harry could tell, nobody really liked him. Maybe it was the annoying habit he had of calling everyone by absurd nicknames. Maybe it was how he tried to insert himself into conversations. He had staged a few harmless pranks in the dormitory, trying to get Harry and the lads to loosen up. His efforts had failed miserably. Had there not been a war on, Harry might have been amused and warmed up to the boy, but he had learned from Professor Moody not to trust anyone.
Michelle Holt? She'd won a bottle of Felix Felicis at the beginning of the year, and it had been stolen by Halloween, supposedly. They'd all been of the opinion that she was just looking for attention, but then Tracy's phial had gone missing too. If she'd faked the first theft in order to throw suspicion off herself regarding the second, she could now hold two doses.
Harry drove himself almost nutters trying to think of any other possible suspect. He knew neither Zabini nor Michelle was likely to be a Dark traitor, but he couldn't think of anyone else. It had to be one of them.
Maybe the agent isn't Dark. Could either of them be acting under duress? They don't seem like they're being squeezed. A bribe? Something so base?
As much as he fretted about it, he made no progress by the time the end of June, and exams, approached.
Exams at Hogwarts were always interesting. Professor McGonagall made them transfigure a sow's ear into a silk purse. Professor Slughorn poisoned them and made them brew the antidote. He had emergency remedies standing by, and he used nothing that would kill rapidly, but it was a deadly poison. Professor Snape put each of them under a Silencing Charm and a random curse, such as the Jelly-Legs Jinx or the Dancing Feet Jinx, and they had to do the counter non-verbally. It was all very tricky.
One evening after supper, Harry was called to Dumbledore's office. It had been a long time since they had discussed Tom's Horcruxes. He wondered if the old man had figured out something new.
"Ah, come in, Harry. Please sit. Lemon drop?"
Harry wasn't in much of a social mood. "No, thank you, sir. Am I in trouble?"
The headmaster chuckled indulgently. "Not tonight, Harry. Not tonight."
I didn't come here to be laughed at. "Have you found out something about the Horcruxes?"
Dumbledore's levity evaporated. "I believe I may have found the location of another one of Riddle's enchanted objects at last."
Harry felt a flush of euphoria. "That's stellar news, sir. Where?"
"You remember the memory from Missus Cole? I believe I have at last located the correct spot along the vast coast of England. Tom's orphanage took the occasional day trip to the sea, and through the memories, we have seen that he delighted in lording power over the other children. As we have discussed, he hid his Horcruxes in places where he felt strong. I believe this cave to be such a place."
Harry's excitement spiked. "May I come with you, sir?"
Dumbledore shook his head. "No, but you may see me off, if you wish."
"Why not?" Harry tried not to whine like a child.
"I believe it will be extremely perilous," the old man said ominously. "I am comfortable risking my own life. I am less so with yours. Were you to be injured, or Merlin forbid killed, and I were to somehow survive, I would face the wrath of Sirius Black. If he were to leave anything left of me, I am quite certain that Narcissa Malfoy would destroy my last atoms."
Harry couldn't help but smile at the reminder of the love his family had for him. "Yeah, they'd be pretty upset."
"Thank you for your understanding."
Harry followed Dumbledore down the many sets of stairs and into the Entrance Hall.
"Good evening, Harry."
"Good luck, sir." He hesitated. "And- and be careful."
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "Thank you, my dear boy."
The door shut with a thud.
Suddenly Harry was struck by a bolt of realization. The cave!
He had told Dumbledore that the locket came from #12, but that was all. He hadn't told the headmaster the truth about Regulus. They just didn't have that sort of relationship. The old man knew nothing of the cave, the insidious potion, or the Inferi that guarded it. Harry should have pushed harder to go. With his foreknowledge of the protections, he would be able to react instantly when things went pear-shaped.
Dread filled Harry's stomach. The headmaster was walking into deadly danger.
"Where's he off to?"
Harry spun around. Zabini was standing there munching on a chicken leg.
Was he following us? Did he heard us talking? How much does he know?
"What are you doing out after curfew?" he snapped.
"I was hungry. Where's Dumbledore gone?"
"Never you mind. Get back to the dorm before I give you detention."
"You have a really bad attitude, Potter. Has anyone ever told you before?"
Harry ignored him and practically ran for the common room. He went directly to Crabbe and Goyle. "You two, with me, right now."
"What's up?" Draco said.
"I think Zabini might be a spy." Harry tried to remain calm. "He's been trying to learn about the Order of the Basilisk all year. Just now, I caught him following me, but he saw Dumbledore leave the castle. I think he might try and tell Voldemort somehow."
"How?"
"Sirius and I have enchanted mirrors," Harry pointed out. "It's not like it's impossible. The how doesn't matter right now. We've got to stop him."
Draco leaned forward. "What do we do?"
Harry had a rough plan worked out. "As soon as he gets back, we knock him out and take him down to the Chamber of Secrets to question him."
"Fitting," Draco said approvingly.
They waited not even five minutes. Zabini was whistling as he came in, but he stopped as he saw all the wands pointed at him.
"Hey, guys," he said casually. "What's all the excitement about?"
Harry's answer was a Stunner. Zabini crumpled to the floor as the red light struck him in the chest.
"Bring him," Harry said to Goyle.
It took some patience and many references to the Marauder's Map, but they got up to the second floor girls' bathroom without encountering Filch. They locked the door. Harry opened the passageway, and they took the stairs down.
In the circle of light where Ginny Weasley had lain, Harry conjured a sturdy chair. They fastened Zabini to it with chains and bound him tightly.
"Renervate!"
Zabini came awake at once. "What's going on? Potter, where have you brought me?"
Harry leaned in menacingly. "I'm asking the questions here, Zabini. Do you understand that?"
"Go get stuffed!" Zabini was not intimidated.
It was time to get some answers. "You've been trying to learn my secrets all year. Why?"
"I just wanted to be friends," Zabini explained. "You guys treat me like a stranger, and I hate it. You always stop talking when I come in the room. You never want to study with me. You hex the snot out of me in Duelling Club. I've been nothing but nice to you lot since I got back, but you can't seem to forgive me for leaving."
Harry ignored his plea for sympathy. "Who are you working for, Zabini? Who wants to know my secrets?"
"I'm not working for anyone," Zabini denied.
Harry cast a curse to give him boils all over his body. Zabini yelled.
"Stuff yourself!"
"Who do you work for?" Harry demanded.
"When I get free, you're going to regret this, Potter," Zabini howled.
Tonks and Snape waited in Trelawney's tower for the raid to begin.
"I hate waiting," Tonks said, lounging on the sofa. "That's always the worst part of any operation."
"Shouldn't you change form?" Snape said. "We'll want to be ready."
"If it will make you feel better, Professor," Tonks said, flashing him a cheeky grin. She closed her eyes and melted into the image of Sibyll Trelawney. Her height didn't change, but she became thinner.
Tonks stepped behind a screen and changed into a grey shapeless robe. She wrapped herself in a gauzy spangled shawl. She put on not less than a dozen chains, beads, and pendants. She donned many bangles and rings, almost entirely hiding her hands and arms.
"How do I look, Professor?" Tonks' voice was completely different too.
He glanced her over briefly. "Adequate."
"That's all I get? Adequate?" It was actually rather high praise.
He sneered at her. "You will pass."
Tonks sighed. "I suppose that's the best one can expect with you."
"Five points from-"
"Hah!" she crowed. "Can't do that anymore, can you? You've actually got to deal with me as a fellow human being."
He returned to the task at hand. "Now that you look the part, perhaps I should stun you so as to be ready when the signal comes."
She smirked at him. "If you want to take on an Auror, be my guest."
"How a bumbling fool like you ever survived Auror training, the world deserves to know," he declared. "I still can't believe you lettered well enough in Potions to get in. Or well enough to get into NEWT-level in the first place, for that matter."
"For some reason I was a lot less clumsy without someone looming over me waiting for me to screw up," she said sweetly.
"Did you find my presence disturbing, Miss Tonks?" Snape seemed pleased for some reason. "That is by design. One will not always have ideal conditions in which to perform spells or brew potions. The true measure of a wizard is how well he can perform when under stress and pressure. I would think that an Auror would understand grace under fire."
"I can, but when you're dealing with eleven year olds, it's very harsh."
"Life is harsh, Miss Tonks," he said without sympathy.
"That's Missus Lupin, by the way," she corrected.
"Further evidence of your questionable judgment," he sneered.
"You could take it easy on them," she said, not letting go of her argument. "They're just starting to learn."
He brushed her sentimentality aside. "They should learn correctly from the start that life is not ideal. They should learn to perform in real world circumstances, then when they have a chance to pursue the ideal, their work will be that much stronger."
She nearly rolled her eyes. "You're about to start in about the beauty of the shimmering cauldron, aren't you?"
Snape frowned. "I would not expect you to understand."
"Isn't learning the basics of Potions difficult enough?" she inquired.
He sought to explain. "My father taught me to play chess. He called it a gentleman's game. Do you play?"
She nodded. "All Aurors do."
Snape arched his fingers. "He was ruthless. He never forgave a mistake. He would swoop in and take my queen on the third move if I left her unprotected. He mocked my protests. He said the only way to get better was to play against people who were better than you. He said he would do me no favours by going soft on me. Said that life wasn't fair and I should disabuse myself of any notion that it was. The only fairness in life is what you wring from it."
"Sounds very Slytherin," she observed.
"Yes," Snape said. "So it is with the students. I challenge them from the start. Those who have the will to succeed will rise to the test. Those who do not take it seriously will wash out."
"Survival of the fittest?" she paraphrased.
"Indeed."
"What about those who have the potential to be great but don't have that intuitive grasp of things?"
He dismissed this possibility. "Without the grasp, one cannot be great. There is only so far that rote memorization of things read in a book can take you. One needs a feel for the potion."
"People who can follow the instructions can produce effective potions. Why discourage them from going as far as their skill will allow them?"
"I don't," Snape crowed. "Their skill won't let them get past my classroom."
Tonks sighed. "You're causing a shortage of potioneers. You do know that, right?"
Snape did not care. "I will not suffer fools in my class. I will readily teach anyone who genuinely wishes to learn and apply one's self. I have seen many pass through these halls who had the touch. If one does not wish to devote the effort, I cannot help that."
"You could make the subject a little more appealing," she suggested. "You're always so grim. Try smiling every now and again. If you were a more pleasant person in general and teacher in specific, students might enjoy being in your class and might enjoy potions more and might go on to pursue careers."
"I am not required to smile. At the least, I do not remember that requirement anywhere in my employment contract."
Zabini had talked in the end, but it had been meaningless. Harry was quite certain that he wasn't the spy. He was an extremely annoying person, but he wasn't a supporter of Voldemort. That left only one other suspect.
"Now, how to handle Michelle," Harry mused. He didn't really want to abduct her and rough her up the way they'd done to Zabini.
"I can take care of it," Pansy offered.
"No," Tracy said. "I'll do it."
"Do you want some help?"
Tracy considered for a moment. "Your badge could be helpful to get her to come with me. Yes. After that, I shouldn't need more than an hour or two. She'll tell us everything. I promise."
Harry didn't want to know the details. He only knew that it was better for a girl to do such things than a boy.
"You don't have to hurt her," he said. "Just scare her."
Tracy smiled tightly. "Pain is scary. If I hurt her a little bit, it will scare her, and she'll tell me what I want to know."
"If you hurt someone enough, they'll tell you anything you want to hear just to make the pain stop." He'd learned that with Zabini.
"At first, yes."
"At first?" he said sharply.
"I keep asking the question."
"I don't like this." He was fine with the blokes delivering a beating to Zabini, but the notion of hurting Michelle made his stomach turn a bit. She was one of them, a Slytherin. She was a part of his house and his family. Family shouldn't hurt each other.
"I don't like it either," Tracy said, "but it must be done."
"There's got to be another way." The way Zabini had squirmed had been grotesque. He didn't want to think about Michelle doing it too.
"There is no other way. I'll try to make it quick."
"Veritaserum!" he said desperately. "We've got to have some Veritaserum still around here somewhere."
"No, we're out," Tracy said softly. "Most everyone got frustrated and stopped practicing. Theo and I are really the only ones. We ran out yesterday. I was going to ask you to ask Professor Snape for more, but I haven't had a chance."
"Damn it!" Harry threw his cloak around his shoulders and headed for the door. "I'll be right back."
"We can't wait, Harry," she said urgently. "If Dumbledore really has left the school, then this is the night they will attack. We can't let a spy get that information back to Voldemort. If you want to spare Michelle from what I'm going to do to her, you're either going to have to stay here and guard her or be very quick in finding Professor Snape."
"Don't worry about that," he almost snarled. "Don't do it, Tracy. Please."
She seemed almost sad. "I'm sorry, Harry, but I have to. We're talking about my life here. If Death Eaters attack the school, I'm going to fight, and I'm probably going to die."
"Tracy-"
"I will do everything I can to prevent that attack and preserve my own life, to save the lives of all the students in this castle, and if that means I have to get a little rough with Michelle, then I will do it without a second thought." Her eyes were locked with his. "When you ask me not to, you ask me to endanger my life. I would die for you, Harry, but only as a last resort. I want to live. Her pain is better than my death."
Harry had no words and had no time to try to come up with some. He turned in appeal to Pansy, but saw no sympathy in her eyes. She clearly didn't like it, but she was going along with it.
"Fine," he said, shoving the issue aside for now, knowing there was nothing he could do about it at the moment. "I'll be back really damn quick."
"I hope so." And he believed her.
Harry pulled out the Marauder's Map as he walked briskly up the stone corridor. Professor Snape wasn't in his office, nor was he in the staff dormitory. Harry frowned and began scanning the map, cursing the lost time.
"What the hell?" he said, double-checking. "What the hell are Snape and Tonks doing in the Divination tower?"
Just then a swarm of new indicator flags appeared in one of the secret tunnels. Harry drew in a sharp breath as he read some of the names. Death Eaters!
He stopped on the spot and double-timed it back to the common room. He was going to need help for this one. He put the map away and pulled out his mirror.
"Sirius Black!"
"Harry Potter!"
"Death Eaters are attacking the school! Bellatrix is leading a group in through the old secret tunnel that's supposed to have been collapsed."
"Someone must have fixed it. I'm on my way. Where are you now?"
"I'm headed back to the common room to alert the others, then I was going to go stop them."
"I can't believe how eager you are to tangle with her again."
"That's not the word I'd use," Harry said dryly. "Sirius, do you know anything about a plan involving Snape and Tonks?"
"How do you know about that?" Sirius demanded.
"The map never lies," he said succinctly.
"So it doesn't. It's part of a plot to get an agent into the prison. Snape told Voldemort who gave the prophecy, and Voldemort ordered him to kidnap her."
Harry caught on at once. "And Tonks is going to morph into Trelawney's form. Cute. Was this Dumbledore's plan?"
"It was a group effort," Sirius replied.
Harry could see a number of ways for it to go horribly wrong. "This is the best plan you came up with?"
"This is the only plan we came up with," Sirius said sourly. "The Fidelius is very strong magic."
"Get here soon," Harry pleaded.
"I've already left," Sirius assured him. "I sent a Patronus message to Remus. As soon as I contact Auror headquarters, I'll be in Hogsmeade. I know where that secret tunnel comes out, so I'll just follow the Death Eaters on in."
"Be careful," Harry urged.
"You too. I love you, Harry."
"I love you, too, Sirius."
The island was no larger than Albus' office, an expanse of flat dark stone on which stood nothing but the source of that greenish light, which looked much brighter when viewed close up. Albus squinted at it; at first, he thought it was a lamp of some kind, but then he saw that the light was coming from a stone basin rather like the Pensieve, which was set on top of a pedestal.
Albus approached the basin. It was full of an emerald liquid emitting that phosphorescent glow. He pushed back the sleeve of his robe over his blackened hand, and stretched out the tips of his burned fingers toward the surface of the potion. He met an invisible barrier that prevented him coming within an inch of it. No matter how hard he pushed, his fingers encountered nothing but what seemed to be solid and flexible air.
He raised his wand and made complicated movements over the surface of the potion, murmuring soundlessly. Nothing happened, except perhaps that the potion glowed a little brighter.
"But how to reach it?" he asked the mist. He often pondered aloud. Forming his thoughts into words and then hearing them through his ears had often helped him sort his mind. "This potion cannot be penetrated by hand, Vanished, parted, scooped up, or siphoned away, nor can it be Transfigured, Charmed, or otherwise made to change its nature."
Almost absentmindedly, Albus raised his wand again, twirled it once in midair, and then caught the crystal goblet that he had conjured out of nowhere.
"I can only conclude that this potion is supposed to be drunk. Only by drinking it can I empty the basin and see what lies in its depths."
Albus lowered the crystal goblet into the potion. For a split second, Albus hoped that he would not be able to touch the potion with the goblet, but the crystal sank into the surface as nothing else had; when the glass was full to the brim, Albus lifted it to his mouth.
The taste was like the air of a charnel house. It tasted of smoke, death, pain, and agony. Cold flooded his body, as though he'd been dunked back in the sea outside. His extremities felt like pins and needles. A wave of despair washed over him, draining his hope and spirit.
That was only one goblet. The basin held much more. He shuddered. How could he bring himself to drink all of this poison?
I can. I must. There is no one else. Only me. I can do this. I must. For the greater good.
The second goblet was even worse. It tasted of blood, fire, ash, and ruin. He felt the curse in his arm flare anew, only over his entire body. Whiteness washed out his vision. A roaring cacophony filled his ears.
He drank the third, tears pouring from his eyes. Though he knew he was alone, he was hearing voices. His past, which he always kept a very tight lid on, was trying to make him remember. Grief assailed him, pounding at him with hammers of guilt and anguish.
He could not drink a fourth. The goblet fell from numb fingers into the basin. He stared at it with horror, gripping the rim with all his strength.
Why am I doing this to myself? Nothing is worth this. I should just leave. I need to get back to Hogwarts. I have things to do. More important things than slowly killing myself.
How long he stood there, he could not say. At last his head cleared just a bit. Truly this potion was twisted and insidious. Albus had never seen its equal. Tom must have invented it. A completely misplaced sense of pride in his old student made him smile. This was the level of skill and ingenuity he had been disappointed not to see with the crude entrance mechanism.
The fourth goblet sent his eyes rolling back in his head. His face was twitching as though he was deeply asleep, but dreaming a horrible dream. He collapsed to the stone ground, his legs unable to support him. He lay there, twitching every so often, lost in hallucinations.
At long last the fog in his brain parted just enough for him to stand and fill the goblet again. The world melted around him. Everywhere he looked, no matter whether what he saw was real or imagined, things melted and refused to hold their shape. The goblet turned into a dove and flew into the air, around his head three times, and then it dove into his ear.
